


Happy Birthday, Dean

by senseandcommon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Trickster - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senseandcommon/pseuds/senseandcommon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew this birthday was important, and he knew he had to express that to Dean. But in seeking advice from Gabriel, a notorious trickster, will things go horribly wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Dean

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for my lovely friend, Caitlin, who helped me brainstorm the ideas behind this fic and quite a few others that I might just end up writing. I really enjoyed writing this ficlet, and I genuinely needed the practice (what with the fact that I never write short stories or fluffy romantic things). It was a lot of fun to write, and I hope that it is just as much fun to read! Enjoy!

     It was January 20th, and Castiel was all too aware that Dean’s birthday was a mere four days away. Castiel knew that Dean was in his early thirties, thirty-three in real-world time. Castiel also knew that Dean and Sam never really celebrated their own birthdays, typically letting them pass with no special recognition whatsoever.

     But little did Dean know, Castiel didn’t see him as almost thirty-four. No, for when Castiel had gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, he might have left a few years of the man’s physical life behind. You know, to make him stronger, so that he could better fulfill his heavenly duties and whatnot. No other reasons. And definitely none that had to do with the way Dean’s younger, unscathed muscle flexed whenever he moved or flexed. Nope, none at all.

     Anyways, Castiel knew about Dean’s ongoing love affair with normality. He had watched the man revel in simple activities like mowing a lawn or raking leaves or washing dishes after a home-cooked meal. And now, Dean’s physical body was on the brink of turning thirty again, an age that Castiel assumed was an important year for normal humans. Dean had spent his first thirtieth birthday struggling to keep the seals from breaking, and for that Castiel felt marginally guilty. He deserved to have this one be normal.

     And then there were the feelings. As an angel, Castiel had little to no idea what the strange burning in his chest meant whenever Dean was near, the way his hands never seemed to stop trembling, or the way his body – or being, rather – felt empty whenever Dean was away. At first, he had assumed something was wrong with Jimmy, but now he was beginning to believe that the emotions had more to do with himself and less to do with the host he occupied.

     This birthday, it was truly of great import.

     The only problem was that Castiel had no idea how to accurately celebrate a birthday. He knew that gifts were given and a song was sung, but he assumed that there was more to it than that. Castiel had tried to do some investigative work, sitting in on a few low-key birthday parties and watching television shows that centered on the over-celebration of something called a “sweet sixteen”, but he still couldn’t deduce what the basics of the event were.

     So, on the 22nd of January, a frustrated and desperate Castiel ended up seeking the advice of the only being he knew that knew human traditions better than most humans did.

     “Cassie, why would you need to know how to celebrate a birthday?” Gabriel lounged on the cheap couch of the motel Castiel had called him to, picking mindlessly at the wrapper of the candy bar he almost always seemed to have at hand.

     “Gabriel, my reasons are not your concern. All I request from you is a simple list of things that are required in order to properly recognize the passing of another year of life.” Castiel’s words were rushed and uneven, driven by emotion rather than his usual rationalism. To his dismay, Gabriel noticed almost immediately.

     “This is about that dick-bag hunter, isn’t it? Dean-o’s turning another year older, and you want to get into his pants while the going’s still good, am I right?” Gabriel bounced up and down, his giddiness positively nauseating. Castiel tried his hardest to prevent the blood from rushing to his cheeks in silent shame.

     “I do not seek entrance to his pants, Gabriel,” he huffed, fighting the urge to wave his arm is frustration. _And the going will always be good_ , he added in the back of his mind.

     Swallowing dryly, Castiel continued, “I simply want him to enjoy this important event. Neither him nor his brother get to enjoy much. Now will you help me, or not?”

     “Ah, little Cassie’s got it bad,” a cruel smirk slunk onto Gabriel’s face as an idea appeared in his diabolical head.

     “Little brother, I’ll help you throw this party, and I can guarantee that by the end of it you’ll have ‘entrance to his pants’.”

     Castiel frowned at the angel’s overwhelming immaturity, but he still paid close attention to Gabriel’s every word. 

     After two days of intense preparation and constant worrying, Castiel was finished organizing the party. The Winchesters were between jobs at the moment, and were staying in an abandoned house in the middle of New York. Sam had taken Dean out for burgers, and had invited Castiel along. To Dean’s disappointment, he had casually declined the invitation, stating that he had “alternative plans”. The older brother had muttered something derogatory under his breath, but Castiel had let it slide, knowing that Dean would be more than pleased when he returned.

     For the next hour or so, Castiel finalized his preparations. Then, when he had completed his mandatory tasks and Sam and Dean had yet to return, he ended up spending a considerable amount of time debating where the best position was for him to be when Dean arrived. He decided on one of the folding chairs he had set up earlier.

     Finally, the door swung open and Dean and Sam wandered in to the ramshackle house, leftovers in hand.

     “Surprise!” Castiel exclaimed, as Gabriel had told him was customary in this sort of situation.

     Sam’s immediate response was to laugh, but he quickly suffocated the reaction when he realized that Castiel was being serious. Castiel had decorated the room to the best of his ability, taping packages of unrolled streamers to the walls and tacking up signs that read “Happy Birthday!” and “Congratulations on turning 30!” Both latex and Mylar balloons littered the room, their designs ranging from generic greetings to images of children’s television characters. A small folding table and three chairs were set up in the middle of the otherwise empty room, a store bought cake with “Happy Birthday, Dean” painted onto it in green icing placed in the middle. Places for each man were also set at the table, complete with all of the necessary party favors: paper noise makers, novelty candies, hats with obnoxious ribbons protruding from the peaks, and even a few cheap plastic rings. Castiel was already wearing his hat, an uncharacteristically goofy smile on his usually deadpan face.

     “Happy Birthday, Dean,” he continued.

     Unable to contain himself, Sam’s laughter burst out of him like an alarm, shaking the small room. Instinctively, Dean smacked his younger brother in the gut, the color draining from his freckled face. Returning his arms to his side, Dean’s mouth fell open in shock.

     “Cas, what is this?” he finally inquired, his voice small and cautious, as if he was afraid a direct confrontation would break his favorite angel.

     “This is your birthday party, Dean. I researched the typical customs involved in the celebration of another year of successful life and attempted to incorporate as many as possible.” Some of the excitement left Castiel’s face as he explained the situation. Perhaps the Winchester’s aversion to normality had left them unawares of the accepted traditions.

     Sam turned away, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Slowly, Dean approached the table, looking down at the plates, napkins, and hats that had been carefully laid out for him.

     “Then why, Cas, does my party have a Barbie princess theme?” he stuttered, his voice unnaturally hollow. Castiel furrowed his brow at the look of fear that inhabited the man’s face. Had he done something wrong?

     “I know how much you love blonde women, Dean,” he muttered casually, not understanding how Dean had not made this assumption himself, or why Sam had begun to cry with amusement. 

      Dean was speechless, his eyes wider than Castiel had ever seen them. Panic began to set in. Castiel knew he had done something wrong.

     It didn’t help that the party’s final component chose that moment to arrive.

     “Hey, hey, hey, I hear it’s somebody’s birthday!” the door burst open, revealing the only clown that had been available within a twenty mile radius.

     The happiness swept off of Sam’s face in a heartbeat as the clown entered the room. Pressing himself against the wall, he inched slowly towards the room’s exit. There was something supernatural about that clown, he just knew it.

     “So where are the kids?” the clown grumbled almost instantly, a bit of his excitement and wonder lost as he looked around the uncouth room. A frown appeared amongst his painted-on smile.

     “There are no children, just us,” Castiel responded, his voice shaky. This was not how he had wanted this party to go. Gabriel had promised that this would work.

     “Dude, is this some sort of fetish thing? I don’t do that sort of shit,” the clown backed into the doorway. A small noise escaped Dean’s throat as he looked at his feet, his face as red as the clown’s nose.

     “No,” Castiel assured him immediately, not knowing how to explain his current situation. This certainly was not how he had wanted this to go. Sam was nowhere to be found, and Dean was apparently broken. “I suppose you can leave if you are uncomfortable.”

     “You paid for three hours, so I’m required to be here for that long,” the clown mumbled hesitantly.

     “Then you are free to go into the kitchen and get something to eat. I need to talk to Dean,” Castiel instructed, looking at his closest ally warily. 

     The clown disappeared into the next room, unaware of the tall hunter that now stalked his every move. Sam had snuck away momentarily to acquire a rifle and silver knife, expecting the worst. He had let so many clowns in the past get the jump on him, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

     In one swift movement, Sam pounced on the clown, pinning him to the peeling linoleum floor of the kitchen and covering his painted mouth before he could shout. The clown’s eyes blew open as he wriggled under the overgrown, crazed man.

     “What are you?” Sam growled in the most menacing voice he could muster. Happiness burst forth in the back of his mind. He had done it, he had caught the clown. Slowly, he removed his hand from his mouth.

     “Terrified, for one thing! I don’t know what sort of sick operation this is, but I learned my lesson. I need to run some sort of goddamn background check before I show up for a job!” the clown squirmed some more, but Sam wasn’t going to budge.

     “I’ve taken down enough of your kind to know when something isn’t human,” Sam responded, “What. Are. You?”

     A small bout of laughter escaped the clown’s mouth, startling Sam.

     “Okay, okay, you got me.”

     In a ripple of color and light, the clown disappeared, a familiar and annoying angel assuming its place. Sam’s first instinct was to leap back, but instead, he pressed the rifle further into the man’s stomach and flexed his finger around the trigger.

     “What are you doing here, Gabriel?” Sam growled, his fear replaced by an intense and unabiding hatred.

     “Aw, Sammy, and here I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Gabriel smiled teasingly, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

     Sam still didn’t move, not understanding the angel’s response.

     “What do you mean?”

     “Oh, Cassie’s trying to get into Winchester Number One’s pants. Must run in the family. I mean, either you’ve got two guns or you’re happier to see me than you let off,” Gabriel offered up another trademark crooked smile as Sam leapt off of him.

     “Now, why don’t we go watch our brothers confess their undying love for one another?” Gabriel chuckled, rising up off of the ground quickly.

     Meanwhile in the main room, Castiel was having a full-blown anxiety attack.

     “Dean, have I done something wrong?” He finally asked, not knowing how to properly handle the rush of human emotions. Distress. Fear. Foolishness. How had he ever trusted Gabriel?

     “Uh, yeah, Cas,” Dean finally responded, after awkwardly opening and closing his mouth a few times. His face was still red, but it didn’t seem like anger. As long as Dean wasn’t angry, the day was salvageable.

     “What have I done wrong, Dean? I tried very hard to make this a special day for you,” he could feel himself disappearing into his trench coat. Maybe today was destined to be a bad one.

     “Well, for starters, I’m thirty-four,” Dean said, attempting a smile, but failing miserably. “And also, this is a poor excuse for a kid’s party. No adult throws a party like this.”

     “Actually, Dean, when I rebuilt your body after Hell, I removed a few years. This is your true thirtieth birthday,” Castiel stared intensely at Dean, afraid to look anywhere other than at him. The man’s face seemed to grow a shade darker. Castiel feared that this shade change might have been out of anger. The man’s words hung in his mind. Gabriel had indeed given him defective advice. 

     “Why’n Hell’d you do that?” Dean asked, running a hand across his chin. Castiel knew Dean only did that when he was anxious. Even though anxiety wasn’t anger, everything was still going wrong.  

     “I did not have a genuinely professional reason.” Castiel’s hands played mindlessly with a button on his coat.

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, his voice suddenly an octave higher.

     “I do not know how to explain my intentions to you without making you more uncomfortable than you already are,” a hint of sadness was apparent in his voice, and Castiel instantly regretted it.

     “Uncomfort – intentions –,” Dean couldn’t even form a proper sentence, “Cas, what was this supposed to be?”

     Castiel shifted in his chair, taking a moment to formulate his response.

     “I know how you enjoy partaking in experiences that are deemed ‘normal’ or ‘standard’ or, as you like to call them, ‘apple pie’, and with your lifestyle you and Sam never had the opportunity to properly celebrate your birthdays, and this birthday is an important one, so I asked Gabriel – ”

     Dean raised his hands, cutting off Castiel’s rant.

     “Gabriel?” Dean bellowed. “That explains it! That little son of a bitch! What else did he tell you to do? Wear frilly underwear and dance on a goddamn pole?”

     “No, Dean, is that customary?” Castiel murmured timidly, the look of bewilderment on Dean’s face somewhat upsetting.

     “No – Cas,” Dean pulled up a chair next to Castiel, carefully pulling the ridiculous hat from his permanently messy hair. “You didn’t need to do any of this. I’m perfectly happy with just watching a game and drinking a couple of beers with you and Sammy, okay? It could have just been any other day; I didn’t need any of this ‘customary’ bullshit.”

     Castiel frowned, and, for once, he looked away from Dean. The words that came out of his mouth next were unplanned and unexpected, nothing but a mere whisper.

     “But it isn’t just any other day to me.”

     “What?” Dean choked, his change in tone demanding Castiel’s full attention.

     “Dean Winchester, I am not content with January 24th being ‘any other day’. I wanted it to be properly celebrated; I wanted you to be properly celebrated. You and Sam – You’re my family now. And I apologize if I ruined today, but I promise that I had your best interest at mind. I always have.”

     “Cas, that’s… Uh, that’s really nice, but you didn’t need to do this. There’s nothing special about my birthday,” Dean mumbled, his words nearly incoherent. Now, it was Castiel’s turn to glow red with frustration. Dean did not understand. Dean could not understand.

     So Castiel did what his body told his to do.

     He showed Dean what he meant.

     The kiss was, at best, unexpected. Neither man directly resisted it once it had been initiated, despite Dean’s initial gasp. It was Castiel who finally pulled away, not wanting to force a chick-flick moment onto his masculine Dean Winchester.

     “Yes, yes there is,” Castiel said breathlessly. Dean stared into his eyes, looking for something he had spent so many years trying to ignore. Watching the switches go off on the man’s face, the second long expressions of sheer realization, that was enough to re-write Castiel’s opinion on the day’s successfulness.

     “Well, then, thank you, Cas,” Dean said, cupping Castiel’s face, “As fucked up as misguided as it was, I guess today was perfect.”

     This time, it was Dean who initiated the kiss, catching Castiel completely off guard. It was passionate and deep, a side of Dean that was rarely unleashed. Castiel melted into it, barely noticing the sound of their two brothers’ cat-calls from the doorway.

     Maybe he was okay at throwing parties, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You should probably go follow Caitlin at Gilbertwinchesterknowsbest.tumblr.com, she's awesome!


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